


Till I see you again

by mottainai



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Angst, Insomnia, LIKE A LOT OF ANGST, Like, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, and kuroko is the best wingman ever don't lie, how do you tag, in which aomine is a dunderhead, slowbuild, sort of, starts in the teiko days
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-09
Updated: 2014-10-26
Packaged: 2018-02-20 12:10:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2428199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mottainai/pseuds/mottainai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Missing someone gets easier everyday. Because even though it is one day further from the last time you saw each other, it is one day closer to the next time you will.” -Mark Ebert.</p>
<p>It wasn't until Kise had left with his smile that Aomine realised he took it for granted.</p>
<p>Or, Aomine doesn't want to meet Kise, until he finds that he really needed to. But he was right that he would blow it up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Smudge of sand

  
  


 

 

He had locked away his feelings since he met him -no, before that. He turned the key as he gazed out the gym windows to the soccer field, when he decided that this was precious.  He wouldn't give himself the chance to muck it up, as long as Kise Ryouta never met him, he couldn't break this precious thing; break his heart.

 

Despite finding the sport distasteful, his eyes always found the blond. He laughed at the blonds antics -as if everything was a show and center stage. In some of his weaker moments, he thought that angels would look like Kise. His eyes were smouldering, burning any gaze that dared reach them. His skin was fair, leagues away from Aomine’s deep tone, and slimmer, though certainly muscled. He was a model for a reason.

 

When he quit the soccer team and moved onto tennis, his heart ached. The tennis courts were past the baseball fields _and_ the pool. His longing gazes would be over.

 

Akashi had, of course noticed. He seemed to enjoy teasing Aomine as much as he enjoyed giving him punishments for losing his focus. He had already met Kise, a fact he often flaunted; though he never disclosed anything.

 

Murasakibara didn't care, Midorima thought he was foolish for pining after someone he had never met.

 

Things might have continued just like that, if Kuroko hadn't gotten involved.

 

It had been a very hot wednesday afternoon, much too hot for the waning days of spring. Practise had dragged on, because Akashi, Nijimura and the coach weren't satisfied with the rate of progress. They had been running simulations time upon time again with no sign of stopping anytime soon.

 

“Run it again.” Coach ordered.

 

Pushing away the heavy weight that wanted to settle in his legs, he jogged back towards halfway, _again._ He didn't even notice a certain golden eyed someone coming past the gym.'

 

He was satisfied with with this little crush -Midorima called it an obsession, but he isn't one to talk- but Kuroko wasn't.

 

He later attested that he hadn’t done it on purpose, that he had been tired. His face was the usual expressionless mask. He thought that there might be _something_ in those eyes of his. Were they smirking at him? As always, with Kuroko it was hard to tell.

 

But when the sim started, Kuroko’s still developing Ignite pass went off course. Drastically. So badly it flew right through the open door.

 

As he ran after it he heard a pained a pained whine. He braced himself for a grouchy senior. He was instead met with the boy who had taken his thoughts hostage.

 

Aomine hadn't wanted to meet him at all, and definitely not like this, running after a ball that had just hit the model himself over the head. Putting on a grin to mask his own unease, he called out to him.

 

“My, if it isnt the famous and popular Kise-kun! Sorry.” He winced internally, mortified at how creepy stalkerish that had sounded. Not allowing his mouth to run away from him again, he raised his hand for the ball.

 

Grumbling, Kise tossed it back to him. As soon as the familiar surface was beneath his fingers, he dashed back into the gym, fleeing that heart-clenching awkwardness.

 

Back inside, Akashi had turned to the side to retain his composure. He couldn’t see Kuroko, as he was currently being berated by Nijimura.

 

“Again! And properly this time!”

 

This time, the sim went smoothly, and he let himself of his play. Straightening himself, he met awed eyes  that seemed to be tunneling straight into his soul.

 

Keeping his gaze on Aomine, a smile beginning at the corners of his mouth, Kise spoke.

 

“I would like to join the basketball club.”

 

To say the least, Aomine freaked.

 

 

* * *

 

 

He couldn’t bring himself to be surprised when Kise made first string in a matter of weeks. He had known that Kise wouldn't disappoint him like that. Even when Haizaki started lashing out because he could feel his position slipping away, he kept his composure, never gave up. As much as he wanted to intervene, Aomine knew that it was something that Kise needed to come over himself.

 

Even though Akashi intervened, Kise had truly surpassed him. He fit in their team, and even though they wouldn't admit it, the team accepted him. He belonged in the same plane; what that meant, he didn't know.

 

If he had kept his crush under lock and key before, he threw it into a river. He couldn’t ever let the blond know. Kuroko was worried about him, told him that he should just go for it already before he wasted too much time. And oh how half of him wanted to, the other half a voice in the back of his head, telling him all the reasons not to. He didn’t return his feelings, was probably straight anyway, and was much too good for him. He dived headfirst into the world of gravure magazines, like he could hide his feelings in between the pages.

 

It stung whenever Kise introduced him to his latest girlfriend, or when he couldn’t make it to their ice cream trips because he had a date, or a shoot, or any other thing that filled Kise’s days.

 

He knew he was being stupid, that this infatuation should have fallen away in time. Except it didn't.

 

One-on-ones were simultaneously the best and worst things of his day. It was exhilarating, electric and infused him with joy. Playing against Kise kept him on his toes, attentive. With a large pool of plays already, the blonde kept on surprising him. However annoying the model managed to be outside of the game, he was serious, and gave it his all, even though he never won once.

 

He couldn’t afford to hold back, as he told Kuroko. Kise might just come up behind him and sweep him off his podium.

 

But all these reasons made these one-on-ones the worst thing. They took him too close, everything was _Kise._ Each moment was agonising, every sweat soaked smile, every cry for another. Because each and every time he knew Kise didn’t feel the same way.

 

When he was alone, with only the night to keep his secret he let himself wonder if Kise would love the same way he played.

 

He decided to stay well away from Kuroko when he was in one of those moods -he still didn’t trust him after the Ignite pass incident-, instead calling up Momoi. She came and let him lay his head in her lap, and listened to ramble on and on about the model.

 

“You need to tell him, at least Dai-chan. It’s not healthy to keep everything inside.” She told him, “Besides, I think Ki-chan has a thing for you, as well!”

 

“What are you talking about, Satsuki? I’m just a goal for him, maybe a friend, but nothing more.” She hadn’t said anything to that, only looking at him like she was gazing upon a dying man.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Days passed and they came through with their second national win. The weather was once again thawing into summer. Break came and Kise was gone for nearly a week because he was shooting a music video. He sent him excited texts all the time, about the silliest things, what he was eating, and how cool his broken automation makeup was. he only replied to a third of them, but saved the picture of him, grin wide, the contrast ridiculous with the creepy makeup.

 

After Kise came back training camp started, the whole event he regarded with apprehension. On one hand Kise would be right there, all the time. Would he be able to survive a whole week with the aforementioned bubbly small forward? Every day with his smile like he was a blind man seeing for the first time, not enough time in between to steady himself, so he wouldn’t do something he would regret.

 

But on the other hand, a whole week with _Kise._

 

* * *

 

 

The next day he decided that he shouldn’t have worried so much. Akashi didn’t give them enough time to groan, let alone smile. Training was gruelling, the sun beating him into the very ground. Kuroko actually fainted once or twice. Aomine could tell that Akashi had organised the menu, too. He ate more green each day than he would normally in a week. Kise seemed to actually _like_ it though. Aomine couldn’t wipe his dumbfounded expression off his face as the model explained about all the diets he had to endure to keep his job.

 

Incredible commitment, he was actually in awe. He told Momoi about it later but she only laughed and told him that he was always in awe of Kise.

 

At the end of the last day of hell week, they were given a surprise. Akashi had grumbled about how he would much rather work on endurance than go to the beach, but he was heavily outvoted. Even Midorima couldn’t bear another step.

 

But when they were in the water, he realised he was in a very dangerous position. Kise in his swim trunks, the salty water clinging to him as he yelled and splashed around in the waves like a small child. His eyes were full of merriment, and he found enough energy to ambush MIdorima and Murasakibara and then run away from them afterwards.

 

It was on the van ride back to the rooms when he slipped up.

 

Kise was leaning over the back of his seat, whining at Kuroko. He was still wet, sand stuck to his skin. On his cheek there was a smudge of it. Wasn’t it annoying? Could he not feel it? It must be annoying. It was annoying him. All he could think of was the sand.

 

Huffing, deciding he could bear it no longer, he reached forward and wiped the offending substance away. Shocked eyes flew to his face. “Um, Aominecchi?”

 

Aomine ripped his hand away and turned to the window, glad for his darker skin that hid his blush.

 

He couldn’t get the feeling of Kise’s soft, ivory skin out of his head.

 

 

* * *

 

 

After that, he made sure to nail his crush to the bottom of the ocean. Still locked.

 

Kise had been shooting him uncertain looks all summer, like he was working himself up to saying something. Probably just another challenge to a one-on-one.

 

The air was fresh with the scent of sakura that reminded him of Kise. The days were brighter, now that he had his own piece of sunshine with him.

 

But then the shadows came.

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

When you’re at the top of the world, you can fall the furthest.

 

And Aomine really was at the top of the world -he played basketball every day and was awesome at it, had a solid group of friends that he played basketball with, and was the ace of Teiko Middle basketball team, with which he had gone to nationals _twice,_ and taken out the championship.

 

But as the temperature plummeted, the weight on court shifted. Had pull of everybody else lessened, or had his grown? Sometimes it was like they were encased in amber, too slow, too slow, running on a different time.

 

The first string teamwork strained, cracks showing about the edges as the rest of the miracles -the title they had been given- really came into their own, abilities blooming in a matter of months. Only the wrath of Akashi kept it all together.

 

He was drowning, hollow. Before the road had been clear and straight, a highway to his glistening future. He would continue to be amazing at basketball, travel the world playing the game against the worlds best. Make the NBA, for all he knew. Maybe, one day he would be able to get over his crush on Kise, find himself a someone.

 

But now the way ahead was dark and twisted. He had lost that drive, didn’t know if he could get it back. Everywhere he turned shadows -no, empty space, devoid of anything, faced him. He didn’t want to play a game that was now so empty, couldn’t put himself through it for the rest of his life. His mind kept on into the nights, until it finally sucumbed to dreams, or the lack of them.

 

Aomine was lost.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Kise was the first to comment.

 

“Hey, Aominecchi! Have you been having trouble sleeping? Your eyes are all scrunchy!” And he was right. Only half a year prior his eyes were wide and cheerful, his face open and welcoming. Now his brows came down further, and eyes narrow. The startings of a crease above the bridge of his nose. The strain in the tendons of his neck.

 

“If you’re having trouble, you should go on a sleep plan! I also know some really great face washes that will release all that tension from your skin, if you wanted to…” The model trailed off, realising that he had been rambling. He turned away, cheeks flushed and muttered something to himself that he couldn’t discern, but Kuroko did. He was giving Kise a searching look, and they drifted off to the side and spoke quietly until the break was over.

 

Kise… he wasn’t sure about anything with him lately. Aomine was in a confused whirlwind of emotions, tossed between so many that he gave up on discerning what each one was. Some nights, just when he thought he was finally getting to sleep, the blond appeared on the inside of his eyelids and he would be in the storm.

 

And in these past months, Kise seemed to come and go, his mind flying away somewhere Aomine didn’t know. Apparently his modeling career was taking off, and Aomine had about the same chance of finding his face as he would finding a starbucks. He was Japan’s newest heartthrob. The term made him smile wryly. The blond definitely made his heart throb.

 

But there was a thing residing in the back of his mind that was angry at all this attention Kise was gaining. He didn’t like the thought of having to share Kise’s smile with so many people. Agitation crawled up his neck at every gushing fangirl, autograph, compliment. He knew had exactly no right at all, and he yelled at himself mentally. Aomine wasn’t the best at sharing, but Kise wasn’t his to share.

 

Aomine loved basketball, so much that it hurt, an ice cold dagger ripping him apart with every time he won.

 

He might just love Kise too, so much he held his dreams and his waking hours. Might.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Waving the others goodbye, Kuroko and Aomine walked through the concrete forest of Tokyo Central, to Aomine’s house. Kuroko was staying the night, so they could help each other study. Aomine knew he wasn’t going to read a sentence that wasn’t about Horikita Mai unless he vitally needed to, but there was no way he was going to call it a sleepover.

 

“How is your crush on Kise-kun?” Kuroko asked, blatant as ever, before returning to his popsicle.

 

“I don’t- I’m not sure” Aomine sighed truthfully.

 

“Mmmhm” What did _that_ mean? “He was right before, you know.”

 

“When?”

 

“When he was telling you to get more sleep. You look like someone is repeatedly kicking you.” Came Kuroko’s signature bland yet vaguely insulting answer.

 

Aomine huffed. “It’s not like I can help it!”

 

“Is that so?”

 

“I’m going in circles about nothing and everything, and anything in between.”

 

“What is bothering you so much?” The shadow inquired.

 

“I’ve just got this terrible feeling… Like I’m losing something I might never get back..” He glanced down at his companion. “Anyway, here we are.”

 

Kuroko didn’t say anything about it for the rest of the night, not even when Aomine tossed and turned far into the night.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Students spilled from classrooms, and Aomine joined the melee. He noticed first his kohai walking a detour about him nervously. He had to admit, the respect felt great. Even some of his classmates didn’t risk it. He wondered what he looked like to them -a tall, dark menacing figure? Hostility surrounding him in an aura? He supposed he wouldn’t know, and he could only imagine how horrified a first year would be if he pulled them aside to ask.

 

It was club activities period, which meant practise. The very thought made his feet feel like they had weights attached. He looked about, wondering if there was a pressing errand that he had to do right away, to salvage a few minutes from practise. As the gym came into sight his chest tightened, iron bars giving a deadly embrace, tightening with every step.

 

And then the door was there, in front of him, much too quickly. His steps stammering, heart thudding, he stared at the door in trepidation. He had never been so scared in his entire life. He was absolutely terrified of losing loving basketball. How good could he get before no one even bothered to stand against him on the court?

 

He broke his gaze, turned to the side, and took the first step away from the door.

 

Already the iron bars were loosening, the weights on his feet falling off, his heart calming. As he walked away a cool wave of relief spread down his throat and all the way to his fingertips and toes. He could feel the muscles in his face releasing, his pace quickening, fluid.

 

He told himself that he was preserving his basketball. There wasn’t much point in being much better than he already was.

 

 

* * *

 

 

A little under a month had passed, and he had found himself skipping practises more and more. With these, he began sleeping easier. He had a plan now, a direction in which to go. Even Kise had been appearing less. He began thinking of missing out on games, too. This strategy was obviously working for him. Momoi told him repeatedly that he should care more, followed him around trying to get him to come back, but he ran and hid. He really should be feeling more guilty, but he can’t help himself.

 

Kuroko confronted him about it, though. Aomine tried to explain him, but the shadow replied with his own strain of masked ferocity. He told him straight up that if he was Aomine’s opponent, he wouldn’t have been able to stand Aomine not caring, trying. It meant a lot to Kuroko, he realised. It definitely was something he needed to hear, and he resolved to make a more effort from now on, if not for him, for Kuroko.

 

And it worked, for a while. But not for long.

 

He returned to practise, and fell back into routine.

 

Akashi had already figured it all out, he knew. But his captain said nothing, and only sent him an calculating look, neither did he say anything about the missed practises, and must have talked to the coach, who didn’t comment either. Murasakibara sent him a single raised eyebrow, and that was it. Midorima was obviously annoyed and disapproved of his actions, but he wasn’t his mum, so whatever.

 

Momoi was beaming.

 

And as for the blonde… he sent him a smile, and asked for a one-on-one after practise, as always. Playing against the Kise kept him sane, for a while. But with every win, he got closer and closer to believing that the blond would never beat him.

 

He went as hard as he could against his opponents, even when their end score tripled that of the other team’s. But he did not smile on court. Not when he heard the voices from the stands, exclaiming how amazing he was, how he could destroy them all by himself. He certainly didn’t smile when they won. As they _always_ did.

 

The ghouls of the night returned in a fervour. They seeped into the light hours, materialising in the shadows under stairwells, the overly cheery flowers in the garden, in the faces of losers. He had tried to hold himself up after he talked to Kuroko but he hadn’t realised that he was already half way down the neck of the beast.

 

Limbs stilled, cries died, and eyes became downcast. He was alone on the court, playing by himself. All around him players gave up, handing him a victory that was bitter to the taste. When had winning became an obligation rather than a celebration? Why was the world so slow? Where was his challenge, his aim, his goal?

 

There wasn’t anything he could do that he hadn’t tried already. It was his third year- he had already played against any players of note his age. What was the point? The only thing that stopped him from quitting basketball now was his love for it, as hot and thick as the blood in his veins. It was the euphoric electricity in every moment that gave him so much pain.

 

He made his way to a decision, finalised it in a game. He couldn’t stop playing basketball, but that didn’t mean that he had to play it _with_ anyone. And that was the first time he didn’t return Kuroko’s fist bump. It didn’t matter any more, it wasn’t worth trying. It was better this way, he couldn’t keep on deceiving both himself and his blue eyed friend -if they would be even so much as that after this day.

 

“They all suck. The only one who can beat me is me. I don’t need you to pass to me again.”  

 

He could hear Kuroko stop dead behind him, a sound too soft to be called a sob leaving his mouth.

 

But Aomine didn’t look back.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this chapter was a bit darker? When I first got the idea for this story, it was going to take place after they left high school, but this kinda ran away from me (one of the reasons the first chapter was so bad) so I'm thinking that I'll just write that story as a sequel to this one. 
> 
> Also a lot of Kuroko in this chapter, and hardly any Kise?! I'll get better with that, but I really wanted to highlight Aomine's turmoil in this chapter, and Kuroko is his bro. 
> 
> I'll try to update as soon as I can, but I'm joining a shipping olympics and returning to school, so I don't know how much time I'll have.


	3. Chapter 3

The Generation of Miracles, the team, broke.

 

The cracks had been there for a while now, but it was when their power surpassed that of the strength that was holding them together that they truly shattered.

 

The coach had spoken to him, told him that he didn’t need to attend practises anymore, as long as he came to games. Aomine was relieved. He wasn’t going to have to force himself through those doors again.

 

He heard about Murasakibara’s challenge, and how the Emperor emerged. That heterochromia was creepy as hell. Now practises were only attended by those who wanted to. He discovered how nice sleeping on the school buildings roofs were.

 

Kuroko had been trying to talk to him, but all attempts were rebuffed. One day he visited his house, but Aomine wouldn’t open the door. The shadow kept around for nearly an hour before he finally left. Aomine was grateful for that; he wasn’t sure how much longer he could have listened to his friends pleas through the door. He made sure to keep a distance between everyone, and a larger distance away from Kise. The blond was still sending him silly messages, but he wouldn’t reply. He seemed to be getting even busier.

 

Momoi was the exception, though. He couldn’t hide behind a screen from her, she had a key to the back door. Literally and figuratively. There was no way he could push this woman away. She had been there beside him forever, there was no way she was moving aside for empty space.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The team evolved into its best form. All for yourself and one for you. Something was definitely up with Akashi, but it wasn’t his problem. The wager was put into place. Finally something vaguely interesting was happening! The passing days had more weight.

 

They strolled through the prelims, initial rounds, quarter finals, semis, each game had a grander prize than the last.

 

Akashi gave them a special challenge for their last final with Teiko. Nothing but ones, proving firmly that they deserved to be number one.

 

And that they did.

 

He wasn't sure why Kuroko was so upset about it, though. Sure, they had been friends or whatever in elementary, but as far as Aomine knew, he hadn’t seen him in years. Kuroko hadn't even been a part of the game.

 

The lights overhead glared down on them, gifting him a headache. He didn’t remember them being as annoying the last two years. Akashi graciously accepted their trophy, cameras flashing as each of them bowed their heads for their medals. The second place getters stood solemnly off to the side, shoulders stiff with their defeat. Like they wanted someone to come over and console them, about how they “Gave everything they had,” or “It’s unfair to have as many prodigies in one team,” maybe even “This is an experience you can learn from, so you can become better and beat them next time.” Translucent words, given away easily. It didn’t matter in the end, they lost.

 

The Miracles were silent. They did not scream in joy; did not tackle one another; did not smile sincerely. The crowd was not erupting in appreciation, instead maintaining a stuttering applause. Shocked bystanders to the massacre. The whole event made Aomine feel as if he was suffocating; he couldn’t wait to be rid of this building full of disappointments. It seemed that he wasn’t the only one, they all left as soon as they could.             

 

 

* * *

 

 

The end of his Teiko days couldn’t come soon enough. The remaining days passed agonisingly slowly, the gears of time grinding in his mind. All this time gave him too much space to think, which he hated. Finally, graduation was in a few days, but he still hadn’t chosen a high school to go to, from the collection of letters in the second draw of the living room cabinet. His mother had put them there so they could be on hand if she wanted to brag to her friends about her prodigal son. But that was a problem for later.

 

Right now, he would have to be content with counting down his days until he never had to revisit this place again. Meetings with the other miracles was a rather strained affair, especially when he couldn’t look at Kise without his gut lurching and his instincts telling him to _turn around._ Whatever the hell that meant.

 

He dealt with it though -mostly through refusing to look at the blond at all- and did his best impression of civil. None of them, however, had seen Kuroko since the championship.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Touou definitely hadn’t been his mother’s first choice. She had wanted him to showcase his talents at a well-known, prestigious school, as if his family name was Midorima, or something. The main problem with all those white collar schools was how much they cared about grades and practices. Touou, though was prepared to cater for him. No restrictions and contracts to tie him down. Untamed, a wild beast.

 

He never asked Momoi to follow him, but he never asked her not to. She had a similar argument with her parents, too. She could have gone leagues in one of those schools with gilded gates; with those academics of hers. He felt guilty that he was dragging her along with him to such a place, guilty that he was pleased she was. Eventually, they brought their parents around.

 

He was enjoying Touou, at least. It had very nice, high rooftops where the sun could beat down all day without pesky shadows. Imayoshi was a strong contender -alongside Akashi- for the creepiest person he had ever met. Wakamatsu was just plain annoying with all his effort he invested. Sakurai, he could get along with.

 

He went as far as going to the first practice, wherein he challenged their regulars in a five-on-one, and blew past the lot of them before they could realise they were shocked. Being told of his skill was one thing, personally facing the sharp end of it was another.

 

This team was new and refreshing, maybe the people he could beat those of the last three years of his life with -more or less with. It was a huge step down from Teiko, of course. But in his head he figured the worse his teammates were, the better his opponents would be.

 

Maybe he would be able to find that exciting opponent, if he sifted through the abundant weak. Maybe someone would grow to be exciting.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Aomine glared at a spot in the chain link fence. He shouldn’t have stopped. He should've kept going on his way down the street. This place was nothing to him, just another of the countless streetball courts scattered throughout the city. He had done nothing in particular with his day, just ambling about the city, imagining that he could feel the heartbeat of Tokyo in the concrete under his feet. The sky had darkened around him, neon signs lit his way as well as any street lamp. Chill had descended, painfully reminding him of his lack of sleeves.

 

He thought he could hear something that didn’t quite fit in with the rest of the cacophony of the city, but ignored it. Why should he care about some wounded animal? He really should get going.

 

Just as he was starting to leave, something heavy and hard and orange struck him on the back of his head. His neck snapped forward and he stumbled. His rage boiled quickly, and he was envisioning a grand pounding for whoever it was that had hit him with a basketball.

 

“What do you say, Aominecchi? One-on-one?”

 

_Well, shit._

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, I had a lot of trouble with this chapter. Some bits, no matter how I wrote them didn't feel right, some I thought made it too much of a filler chapter (which it undeniably is) so I just cut them out altogether. I thought this would be a nice way to end the chapter, though. What do you think?

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Urgh, sorry how messy that got! After staring at it for an hour I couldn't take it anymore. I'm not sure when the update will be, hopefully I'll get one out before the holidays end. It's a personal headcannon of mine that Kuroko was responsible for the ball that hit Kise's head.
> 
> Constructive criticism appreciated.


End file.
